A tale spun around a merchant of jewels and precious stones,
No one was richer, and ceaselessly he roamed,
In pursuit of one treasure - 'The Pure Pearl of Perfection' he'd known.
Upon its discovery, he turned to its holder, revealing its cost:
The sum total of his wealth, absolutely everything lost.
Then stood before him his initial choice:
To renounce all his treasures, their benefits that lent him immeasurable might,
Or remain with them, but bereft of her light.
Without a flicker of hesitation, he chose her delight.
The narrative unfolds, further challenges rise,
Left with nothing, yet she held in his hand lies.
Due to his expertise, he quickly realizes,
To retain her purity, back to the ocean's cradle she must be sent,
Left there in the depths, his heart's intent.
A choice? Not a whisper of thought,
To someplace deep in the sea, her return he sought.
Without a shadow of doubt, without a hint of a choice,
Her purity radiates within his heart, a luminous voice.
The pearl of poetry,
And the humble merchant, in his silent rejoice.
All this writing comes from not knowing?